Blister Band-Aids fixed all my problems. At a semi-overpriced chain pharmacy, they run over a dollar a Band-Aid. And if I hadn’t been given the first four as a gift from a godmother, I would’ve thought, no way, I’m being fleeced! These are pillow heaven strips of healing. Rack my brain as I might, I can barely think of anything as annoying as a blister. I should also tell you that these Band-Aids are, in the scheme of bandages, not cheap. I felt about these blister bandages the same way I felt about antibiotics after I had strep throat a few years ago: modern medicine has saved me! Once, when I had a different life, Hydro Seal Band-Aids afforded me confidence to wear daring new shoes to birthday parties. They are the oversensitive smoke alarm of human bodily pains, screaming constantly from their tiny perches. (I’ve also tried cheaper, generic Hydro Seals. You keep the bandage until it falls off (“NO PEEKING” the box shouts at you), which in my memory is like four to five days. Blisters are too tiny to bother as much as they do! They turned my whole trip around. So small, so distracting, so irritating, so sharp, so demanding. I carry blister Band-Aids with me constantly. And really, for the freedom from pain and pinching and limping, there is no cost too high. For this three-week excursion, these Band-Aids saved six of my toes and one stubborn heel. On every hiking trip, they come along in a zipper pocket. They’re fine! Luckily, in an immediate fairy-tale twist, I met my godmother for dinner in Yellowstone a week into my trip. The last time I got a treacherous little parade of blisters was in Wyoming, when my trusty hiking boots turned evil, suddenly ill-fitting in ways they had never been before. Before meeting these modest gel healing strips, I’d used moleskin on blisters, I’d used a patchwork of regular Band-Aids. Once the bandage falls off, the blister has dissipated. Before my hike the next day, she gave me four squishy Hydro Seal (TM) Band-Aids in a plastic bag and promised my life would be different. And the worst thing about them is if you try to pretend they don’t exist and just keep moving along, they get worse. I soon restocked at a grocery store in Montana. They’re waterproof and pretty firmly stuck. But these Hydro Seal Band-Aids are not bandages. The Hydro Seal bandages do two things: they cushion your blister, so that even if you keep on the same pair of hiking boots, it doesn’t continue to rub; and they create a safe little environment underneath the bandage for your blister to heal. This concern was phrased in a far better way in a five-star review of Hydro Seals on the Band-Aid website, a review that contains the same desperate love and fear that I harbor for these little squiggly things: “Please don’t change!!!”
Band-Aid Brand Hydro Seal Bandages Blister Cushion, Small 6 Count
If you buy something through our links, New York may earn an affiliate commission. Band-Aids’ Hydro Seal bandages are about as thick as a tortilla and come in a few kinds: a tadpole shape for around the toes and an ovular shape for around the heels. By Maggie Lange
Photo: George Mcveigh/EyeEm/Getty Images
Hot Bod is a weekly exploration of fitness culture and its adjacent oddities. I’ve come to rely on this specific product, which is a relationship to brands (constantly reinventing things!) that always makes me nervous. For $1.33, I could buy twenty bandages that fall off and yet gather lint in a permanent ovoid outline around my skin. This invention has changed my little life! These helped. If the real thing is a ten and a regular bandage is a one, the knock-offs are somewhere around a seven). My friend Sophie described their material as “flesh-like” which upset me, but we agreed they have a Silicon “chicken cutlet” feel. They covered up my problem and usually bought me some more time to hike or whatever, but they didn’t ameliorate anything. She raised two accomplished competitive figure skaters and she knew blisters.